Halldórr
The half-orc berserker played by mooremi1, Halldórr is a youthful man skilled in reducing enemies to bloodied corpses. Carrying an array of weaponry, including the dreaded orcish falchion, he wades into the thickest battles with little more to protect him than wits, armour made of rhino hide, and a wooden shield. Cruel and merciless to his foes he comes off gruff to companions but knows his life can end should they choose to abandon him. He is fiercely loyal toward Freja Grimalkin despite her elven heritage and looks upon The Vagrant as more than just an ally. Halldórr has almost no opinion of the seemingly quiet Talon, though the spells he brings are useful. Vicious Magics, an unfortunate name especially for a half-orc, comes off much weaker in personality and even a bit irritating in a goblin way. His final companion Mileena seems to personify most of the attributes of elves orcs discuss before rushing to battle in order to awaken the long fury of orc-kind upon the fairer foe. Stat Line Ability Scores: Str 21, Dex 8, Con 18 (22), Int 13, Wis 14, Cha 5. Race: Half-orc Class and level: Barbarian 7/Fighter 1/Ranger 1/Blackguard 1 XP: 47 000 Alignment: Neutral Evil Deity: Tempus Speed: 20ft. Hit Dice: 7d12+2d10+1d8+54 (44/144hp; base 124hp) Initiative: -1 Armour Class: 19 (flat 19, touch 10) Base Attack/Grapple: +10/+19 Saves: Fort +17 (+19), Ref +3, Will +4 Attacks: *Longbow +10/+5 ranged (1d8+2/19-20 x3) *Falchion +16/+11 melee (2d4+7 and 1d6 shocking/15-20 +1d8 sonic & Fort DC 14 or deafened) *Trident +16/+11 melee (1d8+6/19-20) *Greatclub +15/+10 melee (1d10+7/19-20 x3) *Gauntlet +15/+10 melee (1d3+5/19-20) Skills: Hide +2, Intimidate +6, Knowledge: Religion +3, Listen +10, Ride +6, Search +1, Spot +10, Survival +12. Feats: Power Attack (1st), Toughness (Bbn1), Improved Grapple (Bbn2), Cleave (3rd), Great Fortitude (Bbn3), Improved Sunder (6th), Track (Rgr1), Improved Critical: Falchion (9th). Racial Abilities: Darkvision 60ft., Orc blood. Class Abilities: Rage 2/day, +4 Grapple when raging, +1d6 sneak attack, Favoured Enemy: Elves +2, Wild Empathy, Damage Reduction 1/-, Aura of Evil (1st), Detect Good at will, Poison Use. Action Points: 0 Languages: Orc, Common, Elven. Possessions: MW Mighty (+2 Str) Composite Longbow (19 arrows), Thundering Shocking Falchion +1, Trident +1, Greatclub, Gauntlets, Shadowed Rhino Hide +1 (Total +3), Animated Heavy Wooden Shield +1, Ring of Health +4, Ring of Protection +1, Horn of Fog, Creepy Amulet of Doom and Bloodlusting (??? properties, seems empathic), Bag of Holding Type III, Belt Pouch, Map Case (Map of Midrealm, Origami Paper Crane Note 5 800gp). Bag of Holding: 2 Tanglefoot Bags, Bedroll, Winter Blanket, Caltrops, Crowbar, Flint and Steel, MW Manacles, Clay Mug, 10ft of Hemp Rope, Tent, Whetstone, Good Lock; Poisons~ 2 Vials of Greenblood Venom (Injury DC 13 1 Con/2 Con), Vial of Medium Spider Venom (Injury DC 14 1d4 Str/1d4 Str), 2 Vials of Bloodroot (Injury DC 12 --/1d4 Con and 1d4 Wis), Vial of Dragon Bile (Contact DC 26 3d6 Str/--), Vial of Purple Worm Poison (Injury DC 24 1d6 Str/2d6 Str), 2 Vials of Shadow Essence (Injury DC 17 1 Str drain/2d6 Str); Potions~ 3 Oils of Magic Weapon, 2 Potions of Protection from Good, Potion of Cat's Grace, 2 Potions of Enlarge Person, Potion of Protection from Arrows 10/magic; Wondrous~ Elixir of Hiding, Figurine of Wondrous Power (Bronze Griffon), Murlynd's Spoon. Belt Pouch: 671gp, 3sp, 6cp. Blackguard Spells (CL 1st): 1 1st-- Corrupt Weapon. Notes: Bear Totem Barbarian variant, Fighter Thug w/ sneak attack variant. Raging While raging Halldórr has the following statistics: Str 25, Con 26 (+20hp) AC: 17 (touch 8, flat 17) Grapple: +25 Saves: Fort +21, Will +5 Attacks: Falchion +18/+13 melee (2d4+11 and 1d6 shocking/15-20 +1d8 sonic & Fort DC 14 or deafened), Trident +18/+13 melee (1d8+8/19-20), Greatclub +17/+12 melee (1d10+7/19-20 x3), Gauntlet +17/+12 melee (1d3+7/19-20). Figurine of Wondrous Power Bronze Griffon, large magical beast griffon Ability Scores: Str 18, Dex 15, Con 16, Int 5, Wis 13, Cha 8 Speed: 30ft., fly 80ft. (average) Hit Dice: 7d10+21 (59hp) Initiative: +2 Armour Class: 17 (touch 11, flat 15) Base Attack/Grapple: +7/+15 Saves: Fort +8, Ref +7, Will +5 Attacks: Bite +11 melee (2d6+4), 2 Claws +8 melee (1d4+2) Skills: Jump +8, Listen +6, Spot +10 Feats: Iron Will, Multiattack, Weapon Focus: Bite Special Attacks: Pounce, rake 1d6+2 Special Abilities: Darkvision 60ft., low-light vision, scent. Description Size: Medium Age: 16 Height/Weight: 180cm/98kg Eyes: Red Hair: Black Skin: Green Tusks: Oh yeah Halldórr is a fierce man born of orc-kind. His skin is etched with scar tissue from innumerable battles he has claimed in victory. Running along two tree-trunks for arms are various tribal tattoos of relatively simple design. With a chest as wide as nearly two men the tall half-orc shows no fear to most who are about half his size. Locks of wavy hair shoot down just past his shoulders while a short goatee adorns his tusky face. Two menacing red eyes glare down upon the surrounding world with some measure of disdain for things of comfort. Wearing a simple kilt draping from one massive shoulder down across his waist only adds to Halldórr's rather intimidating presence. History I was born into the elven community of Gilderwood, known as Angé-sáras among the elves. This rather sizable forest was home to a small community of elves and though I know little about them I do know the name of the one who birthed me, a priestess of Lisár and accursed forever. She was named Solange and should the Nine Hells greet her now with increasing fury I would be pleased for she left me to the devices of nature mere days after my birth. Normally the priestesses are slow to come to any conclusion but my birth and arranged execution was made with great haste. Mine was to be a great occassion, I was to make a mighty nation of the Angé-sáras. At least this is what the servants of Lisár foretold. Instead I was seen as I am, one of the orc-kind to be killed without mercy. But being too cowardly to commit the act themselves they brought me to a remote corner of the woods to die among the thistles. Only due to my father's bravery in confronting them am I alive today. He fled the cruelty of the elves and brought me among man to be raised properly. Though I never will have a mother, the name Tomás will always provide me with the warmth of my father. He was kind, patient, and infinitely understanding. I could not have hoped for someone better to raise me those eight joyous years. He told me everything that happened in Angé-sáras, including the betrayal of Solange. No doubt the rage this awakened within me was to be my strength after the orcs slew my father and the entire community we were with. I was spared due to my supposed ancestry and only due to that. Among the orcs I found myself in an alien world. One that shook all the foundations my father had set for me under his tutelage. They were almost polar opposites of the man I grew up under; cruel, impatient, and vicious. However the one thing you can count on among orcs is a lack of cunning, something my father graciously gifted me. Yet I found the behaviour of the orcs somehow comforting in a strange way. No doubt it is due to the fury of our race burning in my heart but I grew to respect the monsters I lived among and became more like them with each passing day. Whenever our tribe would make an attack the warlord, a position that changed hands frequently, would call upon volunteers to lead the assault in a suicidal charge. The orcs who stepped forward often did not return home and were thus given the title 'the One Who Dies'. When I walked up to take this charge I recieved that name myself and was rightfully feared by my former colleagues. With the strategies of my father still ringing in my ears I became the de facto leader of this damned group and when we continued to return day-after-day our fame grew among our kind. Every mission we took became more dangerous until finally there was only one more target for us to prey on, the hated elves of Angé-sáras. I jumped at the chance to wreak havoc upon those who wished a swift death upon me. With a smile upon my face I stalked into the forest, the favoured domain of the elves, and hunted them down one-by-one. Their terror and calls for mercy were met only by silencing steel and once we found their home our full might was laid upon them in a terrible wave of death. I was at the forefront of this tide and sought out my own quarry, the priestess known as Solange. With much anticipation I had awaited this day ever since father revealed my origins. Among the chaos the woman laid at my feet bleeding from the wounds I inflicted. When I whispered in her ear, in her accursed tongue, that this was the prophecy I, her son, was to fulfill she had no response. Her answer was her grief which I relished. My mind had been made, she would die this day yet my arm did not rise. When my feet lead me away from the crumpled elf before me still quivering in terror I did not understand. Yet it happened and Solange lived on. Our mission a success we returned to our own camp to expected reward. Instead we met only the avarice of our leadership who feared the power we held. As if in response to leaving Solange alive I was to be banished from the community of orcs who, like my father, raised me. With my group of damned warriors we left and headed north in aimless wandering pillaging what we could to survive. When we witnessed the merriment of travelling elves under the trees we could not let it stand. Our misery was to be their misery and we set upon them. A fierce battled waged, these were not the elves of Angé-sáras and many of my brethren were cut down before victory was earned. Again I found myself in a position of power over an elf and again I failed to kill her. When my brothers witnessed this weakness, and it is nothing more, they sought to kill her. By my sword they all fell, I would not see this young one die no matter the consequences. When it was just her and I alone under the canopy of trees my own past hit me. I would not turn her to the woods as the elves of Angé-sáras attempted to do with me. Instead she would come with me in order to survive, the echoing laughter of fortune mocking us. However, this young elf would prove her worth as an ally when my brethren sought to destroy me. By the aid of Freja Grimalkin I destroyed all who came to me until none were left. Eventually during our journey we even became friends, a first in my own cruel history. The two of us travelled on and stumbled upon a small town. I assumed it would be an uneventful stay yet the young Freja would make it memorable. She, being the kinder of the two of us, met a young man and the two became attached in some way with great haste. She insisted he be brought along and I relented, for some reason I always relent when it comes to Freja. He gave us a name but it is obviously meant to hide his true identity. I know him only as 'The Vagrant' and he, too, has proved a worthy ally. With his unique talents we were able to resist many oncoming forces from every angle and though I know not his name I respect him greatly. Now we continue on in our journey, I to continually fulfill the prophecy related before my birth. A mighty nation shall be made and I will lead it. Explanation of Titles While raised under his orc brethren Halldórr developed a penchant for appending titles to his name. Most are cruel in orc fashion and meant to evoke terror on the battlefield though some were granted due to achievements or positions of power. 'The One Who Dies' was granted to Halldórr since he belonged to a unit of orcs who charged headlong into battle heedless of any danger. The title was meant as a warning to the tribe in order to help persuade powerful orcs from joining due to fear of death and to foes by sharing the units wanton disregard for their own well-being. Halldórr wears the title proudly and often introduces himself using it. 'Kinslayer' was a name Halldórr gave to himself after his conquest of Angé-sáras. That day he walked among his "true kind", referring specifically to the elves of Angé-sáras, and many died before his fury. Due to this he will sometimes append 'Kinslayer' to his name, most often when introducing himself to a skilled elven foe. 'The Betrayer' was earned by Halldórr when he choose to ally with Freja Grimalkin and slay his former companions for the strange elven maiden. Many among orc-kind who know of this title tend to regard Halldórr in low esteem, some may even call for his blood by merely presenting himself in front of them. Halldórr almost never uses this title due to the stigma it produces. He is constantly aware of the title and will never deny it's use but it is not something the half-orc brings up on his own very often.